People do strange things when they're about to die and I guess my grandfather is no different.
He looked at me briefly but wasn't sure who I was. I knew then, that he was gone. The grandpa I knew, wasn't coming back.
He's been unconscious since then. I've sat and held his hand, telling him that he needs to go now.
"There's nothing else for you to do now," I said. "Grandma's waiting for you. You have lots of people who are waiting so you won't be alone, I promise. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. You've done so much for me and I want to thank you. So just be at peace and know that granma will be happy to see you."
It wasn't as tough as I thought it would be to say goodbye. Maybe it's because he's still hanging on, I don't know. The doctor expected him to go last night but when I got back to the Hospice at 6 am, he was still fighting.
It's been such a long, weary couple of months but I honestly didn't expect to walk into the Hospice yesterday and not be able to talk to him. I guess a part of me always thought he was still invincible. Maybe a part of me wanted to believe, for just one moment, that I would have some profound last conversation with him.
Either way, he's on his way to see my grandma this weekend. I hope he remembers to tell her I said, "Hi," for me when he sees her.